Missional Minimalism

In my first 10 years as a pastor I became accustomed to resources. I worshiped and served with a charitable portion of resources as unidentified supports around me. I had great worship facilities, great budgets and decently funded programs to suit any need or stage of life. I had on-hand artists to paint canvases for my sermons and quality writers to write fresh liturgies every Sunday. I had graphic designers to draw in the eye and talented musicians to create any mood we needed.

Whenever I would start a new spiritual program or sermon series, I quickly found myself pondering what resources were needed to make it land with excellence.

For 10 years, I wrestled with this landscape. I tucked away bothersome thoughts, still feeling that it was a privilege to serve the church.

Then One summer I went to Kenya and returned with hard questions pummeling my mind.

Learning from the Underprivileged

In Kenya, I observed the fallout atrocities from tribal wars. There were unique farming methods in poor villages and children who just wanted to play until the sun came down. Yet, there was something else that lodged under my rib cage: a one hour conversation with a young PHD Kenyan Pastor.

One afternoon this pastor took me on a village walk and then we moseyed into his hut for what he called a “Pastor to Pastor chat.”

I was expecting a delightful spiritual conversation, but I received a gentle but pointed rebuke on American Christianity. The classic memorable line from my new pastor friend was “we don’t want your overstuffed Jesus.”

Ouch.

We talked intensely about how buildings, budgets and bands had crowded out the DNA of the 1st Century Church. With grace, he expressed how Jesus-followers in his village gathered simply and cared for each other in their poverty. Mission was extended through generosity to other villages.

I was confronted and undone. My privilege blinded me to the wisdom and splendor of limitedness.

I did not know it at the time, but he was a Minimalist, and so was his church. They embraced simplicity even in the face of booming church plants springing up in his country that attempted to mimic American brands.

Paring Way Back

God took me on a voyage after that conversation.

I read a barrel of books, such as Robert Bank’s 1979 work Paul’s Idea of Community. This book seized my hand as I navigated afresh the cultural setting in the New Testament. A year later I met some underground Chinese Christians that shared the richness of their hidden uncomplicated movement.

I felt something brewing, and I didn’t like it.

God was taking me on a pilgrimage towards the place where Minimalism meets Missional Theology.

The term “Minimalism” was originally coined right after World War II. It referred to a shift, found both in jazz and art, that pared everything down to the basics. It was a corrective needed to recover simple palettes. The term refers to something that is stripped to essentials. It de-clutters in order craft open space. The purpose is not open space in and of itself. The open space provides more intentional focus on the inhabitants and their relation to each other.

Minimalism, to quote William Henry Channing, seeks “to live content with small means.”

From Synagogue to Simple

The Narrative of the New Testament Oikos added gasoline to this fiery fascination with the axioms of being the church.

When I read through the apostolic letters I observed a trajectory from Synagogue to Community, an intentional breathing space for the Centrality of Love. This new garden of community was the fertile soil for “increasing and abounding in love for one another” (1 Thessalonians 3:12).

They developed a reputation for minimalism which stood in contrast to the Jewish Synagogues and the Greek Mystery Cults of the first century. The Mystery cults were primarily clustered together by interests and were characterized by a volume of shared rituals. The early church was not bonded together by interests and rather what characterized them was mutual love for each other.

The early Church, made up of both Jews and Gentiles, went through an awkward but vital transition. They no longer relied on brick and mortar temples as a gathering point. Space was busted open to make room for a new familial temple, made of flesh and constructed by the Master Builder. With aesthetics and a volume of rituals removed they now had to face each other. Former enemies, were now sharing a meal, orbiting around the bread and wine of Jesus the Messiah.

Acts 20 tells of one such gather packed inside a home in Troas. They shared in the riches of Christ, imaging the ancient People of God assembled before Yahweh.

For the Apostle Paul, the gospel wired people together as a witness to the Resurrected Christ. To be drawn into the Gospel was to enter into the nucleus of community. It was not until Christianity gained favoritism with an Empire in 312 A.D that the Synagogue made an appearance again.

A Moral Compass
I am now a client, practitioner and champion of “Missional Minimalism,” where the Missio Dei and sacred sparseness converge. Both of these are rails for the future mission of the church.

Persecution or Poverty typically imposes minimalism. I invite you to embrace it voluntarily.

Minimalism promotes making space for inter-dependence instead of dependence on elements. We unknowingly relate through buffers. Minimalism reminds us to audit them. It is a bit of a moral compass for protecting the Kingdom-social-politic of our being tethered together.

I cannot prescribe how Minimalism should be applied in your context, but I know it will lead you to differentiate between needs and wants in the ways in which you gather. Because of the pressure of contextualization, a certain restraint is required. A church that does not seek to frustrate conspicuous consumption loses its prophetic voice in the West.

When we add “stuff“ our common-life is the first thing that becomes deluded even if we’re in the same room together. Missional Minimalism is a nimble embodiment of the Body of Christ built for maximum expression of the all-consuming love of Christ.

In V3, you won’t learn overt Minimalism, but you will learn how to do more with less. You will learn some of the vital basics for pioneering Missional Families without reliance on a buffet of resources.

Learn about Missional Minimalism and more in a V3 Learning Cohort.

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Dan White

Dan White

Missional Community Cultivator at V3 Church Planting Movement
Dan White Jr. is the leader of a developing network of communities in the urban neighborhoods of Syracuse, NY. Together our communities are multiplying into diverse neighborhoods learning to serve, listen and extend the all-consuming love of Jesus. He serves V3 as a coach/consultant with the V3 Missional Movement. Personal obsessions include reading theological works, songwriting, buffalo wings, the Dallas Cowboys, U2, dinner-time with my family and good conversations. You can learn more about Dan on his blog.
Dan White

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